


Much Ado About Arthur

by Nejinee



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Bickering, Blow Jobs, Canon Era, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time Blow Jobs, Humor, Injured Arthur, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:22:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22220245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nejinee/pseuds/Nejinee
Summary: Arthur is injured and, because of his bandages, is incapable of tending to his own needs. Thankfully, Merlin steps in to lend a helping hand.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 46
Kudos: 966





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to thank Em for alerting me to this trope that I've actually never read before! And to Sab and Mandeh for bearing witness to the inspiration!

Merlin had tidied up the dishes and taken them down to the kitchen before returning to Arthur’s chambers. The prince was staring out at nothing, sitting in bed, propped up by the many pillows and cushions Merlin had scrounged together.

“What’s wrong?” Merlin said, sharper than intended.

Arthur’s eyes swung his way and he glared, then looked away.

“Listen, I know it’s not ideal,” Merlin huffed and went over to pick up Arthur’s discarded clothing. “But you’ve got to wait it out. Your bones will mend, your cuts will heal, and you’ll be out of bed in no time.” He gathered up Arthur’s stockings from the chair he’d thrown them over.

Arthur wasn’t able to have a proper bath, not with that many bandages and cuts, so Merlin had helped him every day with a brisk wipe down, leaving no room for God or Arthur’s delicate ego. Needs must and all of that. Arthur fumed and went red every time, demanding he be treated with the respect of his station all while Merlin was washing his stupid white arse with a cold wash cloth and soap. It wasn’t _that_ much of a trial, but by God, Arthur could make it into one.

On the bed was where Merlin had left him, tucked in under the covers, his bandaged arm propped up by a few pillows and his heavily bandaged right hand settled atop the covers, leaving Arthur nothing else to do but scowl and wait for Merlin’s hasty return.

“Does it still hurt?” Merlin asked, gentler this time. “Gaius sent along some new drafts if you need to settle the pain for bed.”

“No, it doesn’t _hurt,_ ” Arthur griped, glaring at the wall as if it had threatened his family and stolen his dessert.

“Well, then what’s with the face?” Merlin sighed. He dropped Arthur’s dirty clothing in a pile near the door. He’d grab them on his way out for the evening and hand them off to the laundry maids downstairs. Arthur being incapacitated may have slowed _him_ down but it certainly kept Merlin busy. If he wasn’t bringing up meals or bathing him, he was gathering news and gossip and reciting them back to Arthur every day. Arthur was in constant need of activity and stimulus. He needed to know everything that was happening in his absence. Had the council agreed to his father’s wishes regarding next season’s wheat crop? Was the kingdom concerned Arthur was dying? Someone needed to remind them that he was going to be back and fighting fit fairly soon.

Merlin consistently reassured Arthur that no, the peasants weren’t planning an uprising and that no, the ladies at court had not forgotten how handsome he was. Merlin was almost going mad himself with the duty of taking care of the prince. He’d even started carrying books up to Arthur’s chambers in the hope that they would help ease his boredom. But of course, Arthur insisted that Merlin read to him, holding up his damaged limbs and making a soppy, forlorn face about it all. What an utter child he could be. No council in the land would find Merlin guilty for drowning the heir apparent.

After Gwaine had acted the fool and set fire to the curtains, the knights were no longer allowed to visit Arthur, which, well, was probably for the best. Lancelot’s soft eyes seemed to irritate Arthur and Percival’s nervous energy didn’t help either. Leon was taking everything in stride, as always, but that was apparently annoying Arthur as well. The fact that the kingdom could move onwards, forwards, without his barking leadership must have irked him immensely.

Arthur was peeved that he couldn’t train with the knights. He was annoyed that he wasn’t able to go for walks, or ride his horse. He couldn’t even take a piss without help these days.

Merlin understood, he could empathize. He just didn’t see why Arthur had to behave like such a shitting-rat-bastard with him _specifically._ After all, _he_ wasn’t the one to frighten Arthur’s horse and have it buck suddenly, tossing Arthur arse-first into a very jagged, but shallow, ravine on a brightly lit autumn day.

Merlin had been there when it happened. In hindsight, it should have been amusing to see Arthur, Prince of Camelot, King of the Plonkers, go flying over his horse’s head and down a ravine, but Merlin had been more preoccupied with the very real concern that Arthur had died an untimely death, splattered upon the rocks, leaving Merlin hopeless, direction-less in the shadow of an unfulfilled prophecy.

The ravine hadn’t been too perilous, but one wasn’t concerned with that when just a single blow to the head could have ended the Pendragon line quite efficiently. Percival had been the only knight strong enough to heave the very armoured, unconscious prince out of the crag he’d tumbled into. Turns out, after falling for a while and tossing yourself into rocks and bushes, one could somehow _not_ die and instead come out with only a handful injuries. _Prophecy._

However, three broken ribs, a broken left arm, two swollen fingers on the right hand and a sprained wrist, a dislocated right shoulder, immense swelling and bruising on one hip, and a twisted ankle were not enough to stop Arthur blaming Merlin for his misfortunes.

Even unconscious, Arthur had radiated an aura of pouting annoyance. Gaius said it was a trait of all Pendragons. Merlin just thought Arthur needed another clout, perhaps round the head.

“I don’t have a _face_ , Merlin,” Arthur said peevishly, squashing himself into his pillows.

“Well, you have always had an unfortunately-shaped slab of clay attached to the front of your skull, so I believe you.”

Arthur looked at Merlin, his scowl furrowing deeper into his archetypical handsome and chiseled features. If only Arthur didn’t have _such_ a face, though. “You know you’re the worst servant on earth?” he said.

“That’s not what you said last week when I brought an extra couple of cook’s raspberry scones,” Merlin said, tilting his head and cocking his eyebrows.

“Oh, shut up,” Arthur said, turning his head away to pout mulishly at the wall again.

Merlin watched him for a moment. “Arthur…” he said gently.

“ _Please_ stop using that voice with me, I hate it!” Arthur snapped.

Merlin made a face. “I’m just concerned! How can you be mad at me after all I’ve done for you!”

“You aren’t bedridden!” Arthur barked. “ _You_ can leave here whenever you like and go skipping through the forest, or whatever it is you do on your days off. Playing ring-around-the-roses with the deer.”

“You don’t _give_ me days off,” Merlin said drily, face impassive, choosing to ignore the snide comment.

“That’s because you don’t deserve any,” Arthur retorted. If he could fold his arms, Merlin would bet Arthur would do so. As it was, he was stuck looking like a propped raggedy doll sitting upright in an immense canopied bed.

Merlin sighed. He did look pretty sad and pathetic in his giant bed with his idiotic bandages. Merlin walked over and sat on the edge. He thought back to his thinly knitted bedding on his own tiny, straw cot and tried not to smother Arthur with the luxurious furs. He'd held out this long not revealing his magic and having his head lopped off for something more minor seemed a waste of effort, really.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, “you’re not yourself.”

Arthur’s jaw was clenched. “Nothing is wrong; Apart from the obvious.”

“You were better yesterday,” Merlin sighed. “ _Loads_ better. You only threw one bowl at my head.”

Arthur was silent. His eyes finally slipped over to look at Merlin. They skimmed his body, moving from his ill-fitting brown trousers and dirty boots, and back up over his blue tunic and red neckerchief. “You’ve had a bath,” Arthur narrowed his eyes at him.

“Uh,” Merlin tilted his head, “yes? I had a quick one while you ate.”

Arthur peered at him some more.

“Arthur,” Merlin said again, “tell me, what’s wrong? You’ve got everything you need, haven’t you? Food, water, warm bedding, light to read by. What else can I do for you?”

“You can’t–” Arthur began, then snapped his mouth shut. He glanced away and Merlin could have sworn his cheeks reddened.

“What?” Merlin pressed. “Something’s got you in this state. Out with it.”

“It’s–” Arthur huffed and began again. “It’s nothing. You should go. Get some rest.”

Merlin made a face. “So there _is_ something.”

“Are you, in fact, _deaf?_ ” Arthur said sharply. He looked at Merlin and his cheeks were still red. He shifted awkwardly.

“Is it your leg?” Merlin said. “Gaius told you not to walk about so much. It needs time to–”

“Merlin!” Arthur yelped as Merlin had tugged at the heavy covers, intent on inspecting Arthur’s many injuries down his left side. “Stop that!” Arthur yanked the covers back over his naked skin.

Merlin blinked. “Ah,” he said, hands stilling.

“You saw nothing!” Arthur hissed, face most certainly a deep crimson this time. His bandaged right hand twitched. He must have hurt it, grabbing for the covers like that.

Merlin understood now. The bedding was doing a fairly decent job of covering the bulge between Arthur’s legs. Merlin wondered how long it had been present, just waiting in the wings, a companion to their conversation. “I can leave you alone,” he said calmly, not looking away from Arthur. “I would understand.”

“What exactly do you _understand?”_ Arthur said hotly.

Merlin inhaled and exhaled slowly. He tried not to think too much about what he saw, but he would definitely be using it later in his own ‘personal’ time.

“You need to–er–get some release, _sire_ ,” Merlin said with as little deference as was possible without getting slapped. He smiled, “Everyone needs a moment to themselves. You just have to ask, and I’ll leave you be. Probably best to deal with it swiftly.”

Arthur scowled harder. “I don’t need you to tell me how to handle my own cock, Merlin.” His cheeks were a very lovely shade of pink.

Merlin smiled, “I didn’t say anything about your cock." He stood up and dusted off his trousers. “That’s my cue to leave, I suppose. No one likes an audience. Well, apart from the Earl of Norfolk but he’s a randy old coot, that one.”

But before he could head for the door, Arthur stopped him. “Merlin,” his voice was dry but soft. Frustrated, perhaps. “I can’t.”

Merlin looked back at Arthur, at his prince. “Sorry, what?”

Arthur appeared annoyed, angry, even. He lifted both hands and held them in the air as evidence. “I _can’t_ ,” he said through gritted teeth, as if the words themselves were being wrung from him.

Merlin blinked, trying to understand. Arthur waved his arms around, pointing them weirdly at his crotch, then flailed them some more. “I’m not sure– _oh_ _–_ ” Merlin swallowed. “I see.” He walked back to the bed and sat down. He made a sad face at Arthur.

“Oh, please fuck off,” Arthur griped.

Merlin laughed, immensely pleased and amused by Arthur’s predicament. “You can’t touch yourself,” he said with a wide smile.

Arthur glared at him through his fringe. His hair was a right mess. He looked younger, more disheveled than usual. Merlin always stopped himself from eyeing Arthur in any way that was improper. He didn’t need that sort of drama in his life, so he usually wasn’t able to ogle much. Arthur was naked under the sheets, that Merlin was fully aware of, having bundled him into bed himself. But if Arthur was… _in need,_ then that was a different sort of nakedness to consider.

“I haven’t been able to–to,” Arthur waved his bandaged arms about.

“You haven’t been able to get off,” Merlin said placidly.

“Exactly,” Arthur sighed. “It’s been over a _week_ , Merlin.” His plush lips fell into a pout and Merlin’s heart did that silly wiggle-wobble it did whenever Arthur made such a face. _Stupid chiseled features._

“How often do you usually–”

“I’m not telling you _that!_ ” Arthur cried like a bird being stepped on.

“All right,” Merlin said, hands up. “I usually go about twice a week myself.”

Arthur blinked at him, “Really? So few?”

Merlin grinned, “So more than twice a week then?”

Arthur’s face was red with anger now. “Get out,” he hissed.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Merlin laughed and ducked the pillow flipped awkwardly at his head.

“You’re of no help to me!” Arthur barked and tossed another pillow at Merlin.

“I could be,” Merlin dodged again and hopped back onto the bed.

That halted Arthur’s scrambling. “What?” he said dumbly.

“I can help you,” Merlin sighed and rolled his eyes. “It’s not like I’m going to leave you to suffer, Arthur.” _Much as you deserve it_ , he left out.

“I–but–you–” Arthur spluttered, the thought of Merlin 'assisting' having never crossed his mind. Merlin could see now by the glow in his eyes and the blood rushing to his cheeks that the possibilities were making themselves known to Arthur, post-haste.

“It’s me, Arthur,” Merlin said calmly, ”you’re lucky it’s not Gwaine offering. He might injure you further, given the chance.”

Arthur made a face.

“Exactly.”

“Merlin,” Arthur said gravely, “It’s just not _done."_

Merlin rolled his eyes and began tugging at the bedclothes. “When have I ever given a toss about such things?”

Arthur seemed torn between watching Merlin pull the covers back and thinking of a smarmy retort. He settled on a sharp inhale instead.

Merlin pushed at the bedclothes, airing out Arthur's issue. “Oh, you _are_ in trouble,” he tutted. He sat up on the bed and crossed his legs properly. With the covers pulled down to Arthur’s thighs, Merlin could really get at the problem.

Arthur had a _lovely_ cock. Merlin had never seen it like _this,_ but it had always been a charmingly perfect, princely cock. It was quite pink and fairly thick round the middle. At the moment his foreskin was pulled back, revealing the wet tip, all flushed and excited and nowhere to bury itself. Merlin imagined Arthur’s lame attempts at trying to pleasure himself with scratchy bandages, and winced internally. “You poor thing,” he said.

“Stop staring,” Arthur gritted out. “It’s not a bloody bed of wildflowers.”

“Hm,” Merlin hummed. He looked at Arthur, propped up on his pillows, glaring from embarrassment. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Arthur,” he said.“It’s natural. We all need it now and again.”

Arthur pulled his bottom lip into his mouth, brows furrowed over his blue eyes. “I don’t need you to help me.”

“Not usually, no,” Merlin sighed. “I’m sure you’ve normally got this business in hand, so to speak.”

Arthur was still watching him. “This isn’t… you don’t think I’m odd for this?”

Merlin frowned, “Not at all. Why would I?”

“Men don’t usually show off their goods and wares to one another, Merlin.”

“Ah,” Merlin chuckled, “You’ve just not been to the right taverns, that's all. Now, do you want my help, or not?”

Arthur chewed his lip. Merlin tried not to watch the way Arthur’s chest rose and fell, how his stomach muscles flexed and tensed in his anxiety. Arthur was pleasingly thick round the middle, all strong and toned under his soft, delicate skin.

“You–” Arthur cleared his throat, “Maybe if you help me…it will be enough. Just this once?”

“Certainly, sire,” Merlin nodded, trying to not look as excited as he felt. “Just this once, between you and me and the bed post.”

Arthur considered it some more before nodding sharply. “All right.”

“Fantastic,” Merlin said, sitting up straight. “So let’s figure this out. Where… to… sit.”

“Can’t you just stay there?” Arthur griped, watching Merlin clamber about. Merlin was intent on finding a good spot, a comfortable angle.

“How about this?” he said, untucking Arthur’s legs from the covers and sitting between them, facing Arthur.

Arthur’s face was flushed and he didn’t seem to have words.

“Okay, good,” Merlin said, scooting in. “Um,” he wiggled his hands for a moment, not quite used to this angle.

“Just do as I say,” Arthur exhaled sharply. The bruises on his hips made Merlin wary of not bumping him with his elbows. “Put–hand–” Arthur huffed, waving his broken arm at Merlin. “On. Go.”

Merlin rolled his eyes and gently pressed his palms to the insides of Arthur’s thighs. “Gentle. No need to rush. You’re like a jittery colt.”

“What are you _doing?_ ” Arthur hissed.

Merlin caressed Arthur’s thighs, revelling in their pale softness. Here was a part of the prince that never saw sunlight. His thighs were very muscular and large, but soft and pale as a baby’s bottom. “Shh, I’m going to go slowly. Don’t kick me.”

“I’ll do whatever I like,” Arthur said. “I am the crown prince, and you know what, _sometimes_ , Merlin, I think you forget your–” Arthur immediately stopped talking, and shuddered when Merlin took his cock in hand and gently tugged.

“Oh, so there is a way to shut you up,” he smirked.

“ _Mer_ lin,” Arthur said, softer this time.

Merlin was fascinated by Arthur’s cock. It was different, holding another man in his hand, but not too unfamiliar. He pulled up and then pushed down gently, but not too hard on the down-stroke. Up again. He watched as Arthur’s cock slipped in and out of its hood, wetness developing at the tip and spreading down over the rest of him.

“Lovely cock, sire,” Merlin grinned. He looked up and instead of a pissy retort he found a very red-faced Arthur with a slack jaw and glazed eyes staring back at him. Merlin tugged and squeezed and milked Arthur much as he would himself. It was a soothing thing to do, it felt quite natural if he was honest. He hadn’t expected the look on Arthur’s face, though.

“Is this okay?” Merlin asked.

Arthur nodded and his hips twitched at a particularly good upstroke. “Unh, yes, Merlin, just like that. Please.”

 _Oh, now he’s polite_ , Merlin thought sardonically. Merlin rubbed his thumb over the tip, spreading Arthur’s wetness further down the shaft. It took a few gentle strokes but he was able to slick Arthur up a little more, better for the job. Arthur’s breathing went all funny and Merlin gently rubbed his left hand over Arthur’s other leg. “Gently, here we go,” Merlin said.

With the new slickness, Merlin was able to speed it up a bit. Arthur gasped and twitched as Merlin’s hand slid up and down his shaft efficiently, with practiced ease. Merlin thought Arthur looked even better like this, all broken and red-faced and a little confused by his arousal. Come to think of it, Arthur hadn’t deflated, not even for a moment, upon hearing Merlin was up for the task. _Interesting._ Perhaps men were the same as women to Arthur?

Merlin stared down at the cock in his hand, all pink and wet and swollen in his grasp. His own cock was at attention in his trousers, but he paid it no mind. This wasn’t about him. This was for Arthur. He licked his lips, just amazed at the wet head, the way it slipped in and out the circle of his fingers.

He slid his left hand up to gently cup Arthur’s balls. Arthur gave up a gasp of a squeak and Merlin thrummed with the joy of hearing it. He stared back at Arthur, watching his every response and tried to guess what it was the prince was enjoying, tried to pinpoint the best parts of his arousal.

Arthur gasped prettily whenever Merlin gave his cock a good _squeeze_. He also shifted when Merlin’s thumb rubbed at the underside of his cock head ever so gently. Arthur was watching Merlin raptly.

“Can–can you go faster?” he said.

“I can,” Merlin answered. And he did. He sped up his hand’s movements and it certainly seemed to have a positive effect until Arthur almost bent double. He cried out and winced.

“Agh!”

“Oh, no, none of that,” Merlin slowed his hand, then halted. “Are you okay? That looked like it hurt.”

Arthur was still wincing. “My ribs.” He gently flopped back onto the pillows.

"Do you want to stop?" Merlin frowned. Lord knows he didn't want to be found after injuring the crown prince and having his hand on said prince's cock at the same time. The king might not take too kindly to his interference.

"If you stop, I will die, Merlin," Arthur gasped, opening one eye and glaring.

Merlin rolled his eyes. _So dramatic._ “Okay, don’t move,” he said, as if Arthur was in any position to leap away from him. “Here, let me try this.” He got to his knees, shifted back, and bent down low to rest his elbows under Arthur’s thighs.

Arthur seemed confused, eyes going very wide. “Merlin, what in the seven hells are you–” he choked off with a strangled gasp. “Merlin! _Merlin! What–that’s not–”_

Merlin ignored him as he slid Arthur between his lips and suckled at his cock. _Mm, not too bad._ He’d expected something worse, but Arthur tasted like skin and salt and soft hardness under his tongue. In fact, he felt quite nice, heavy and settled between Merlin’s cheeks. Arthur gave another strangled cry when Merlin sucked him in deeper and bobbed his head.

“Mmm,” he hummed around Arthur and Arthur reciprocated with a yell and a slew of profanity. His gasping words grew louder the longer Merlin kept going, sucking him in and out, licking the head, then heading back down for more.

“Surely… surely that’s illegal!” Arthur gasped out. He sounded close to tears. “Merlin!” 

Merlin popped off and looked at Arthur. “Do you like it?”

Arthur looked at him blearily with heavy-lidded eyes and wet lips. “... Yes?”

“Then what exactly is the problem?” Merlin asked.

“It’s not–not proper!” Arthur cried out, though his flushed cheeks said otherwise.

“So you want me to stop?” Merlin licked at his own probably red lips. They were certainly wet.

Arthur’s breathing was short and fast, eyes watching Merlin's naughty tongue. He was clearly arguing with himself before he answered, “No?” Merlin bent his head and licked at the head of Arthur’s cock. He looked up through his lashes. Arthur swallowed, throat working. “God, Merlin, you can’t be serious. What are you doing to me?”

“Pleasuring you,” Merlin said softly, kissing at the tip. He waited a beat, then sucked Arthur back in for a few more quick strokes, up and down. When he pulled off and sat up, wiping at his mouth with his sleeve, Arthur made his frustration known.

“I will have you whipped!” he hissed through his teeth.

Merlin smirked down at Arthur’s very flushed and pulsing cock. “Are you really in a position to give orders? Don’t worry, I’m not done, your majesty.”

Arthur glared at him with murder in his eyes. “I order you to finish what you started.”

“I will, breathe,” Merlin laughed. He clambered around Arthur’s legs and crawled up the bed. “Here, lift this arm.”

Arthur was confused, but did as he was told. Merlin shifted the pillows out and threw them aside so he could wiggle in beside Arthur.

“You’re wearing your boots!” Arthur cried. “I _my_ bed?”

Merlin sighed and sat up. “Fine.” He grumbled and grouched while untying his shoes. He kicked them off the edge of the bed before staring down at Arthur. While he’d been doing so, Arthur must have shoved the rest of the excess pillows off the bed, leaving him with two to rest his head on and another two for his left arm, which was the broken one.

Merlin laid down beside Arthur. “You all right?” he asked gently.

Arthur rolled his eyes, “You’ve just had that insolent mouth of yours on my cock, Merlin. Now’s not the time for genteel care.”

Merlin chuckled. He propped himself on an elbow and looked down the length of Arthur’s naked body, admiring the whole scene. Very carefully, he ran his fingers down Arthur’s bruised ribs and stomach. “Don’t move. This is a better, I think,” he murmured before taking Arthur in hand again.

His pace was faster this time, aided by using his stronger hand and at the correct angle. Arthur’s cock was wet and slippery, covered in his spit, which made working it a lot easier.

“Merlin, _Merlin_ ,” Arthur gasped softly. To hear such soft sounds coming from him made Merlin smile.

“It’s all right,” Merlin said, “almost there, Sire.” God, but Arthur was lovely to look at. Even bruised and bandaged, he had the figure of a marble god, all muscles and flat planes and pert, pink nipples. The smattering of hair on his chest was mirrored by the hair around his groin, and his beautiful cock–well, it was all quite lovely to behold.

The sounds Arthur made were also very pleasing to the ear. He kept up a constant patter of soft gasps and sharp inhales with a speckling of Merlin’s name and a flow of _‘oh, yes, like that, yes’_ and _‘please, please.’_

It was an astoundingly arousing sight and Merlin was very happy to have stumbled on this particular princely chore.

Arthur was close now, judging by the increase in his swearing. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, Merlin, _yes_ ,” he gasped out, staring up at Merlin with wide, almost shocked eyes.

Merlin held his gaze and sped up his hand. This left Arthur wordless and gasping, just a series of twitching muscles and little sounds. “Almost there,” Merlin hummed gently, smiling down at Arthur, reassuring. Arthur’s cock was thick and hot in his hand, pulsing, on edge. With his own blood rushing around his head and nether regions, Merlin was a little woozy himself. And in a moment of genius, he called to his magic.

The second Arthur flexed and closed his eyes, ready to climax, Merlin’s own eyes flashed golden and he felt his magic zip through him and by extension, through Arthur via his cock. It was like a short, sharp static burst and then Arthur’s eyes flew open and he was coming, gasping and shifting and crying out.

“Ungh! Merlin!” he grunted, biting into his lower lip as his cock spent itself upon his stomach and Merlin’s hand.

Merlin’s heart thudded behind his ribs as he watched Arthur’s climax. It was breathtaking. He always knew Arthur would appear resplendent in such pleasure and he wasn’t disappointed. Merlin gave Arthur’s cock one last gentle squeeze before he trailed his hand up Arthur’s body, to rest on his collarbones. Arthur was breathing heavily, eyes closed, body limp, legs akimbo.

“Bloody… hell, Merlin,” he breathed slowly. Then he opened his eyes and Merlin smiled wide.

“See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Arthur breathed for a moment, catching his breath. He swallowed, eyes not leaving Merlin’s. “That was…”

“A lot?” Merlin supplied.

Arthur nodded.

Merlin leaned in and gently laid a kiss on Arthur’s forehead. “Don’t need that whipping now, do I?”

Arthur seemed more frazzled by the kiss than by anything else Merlin had done to him so far. Typical royalty: repressed and idiotic to the point of frustration. You can tug a man’s cock until he cries, but show him some affection and it was all over.

“I should still have you flogged,” Arthur croaked out. “For my amusement.”

Merlin rolled his eyes. “Can you for once just be grateful? Not many servants do these sorts of things you know.”

Then Arthur smiled. “Actually, I’m fairly certain a number of the maids would _gladly_ –”

“Okay, yes, all right,” Merlin huffed, annoyed. “You’re still bloody Arthur, legendary prince with the nice eyes and immense... wealth.”

Arthur was staring up at him with a softness in his eyes. “You didn’t have to do this, you know?”

“I know,” Merlin said. “I didn’t mind.”

Arthur grinned and shifted his hips, nudging Merlin’s very present groin situation. “Yes, I noticed.”

“Okay, you look here. _That_ is not _for_ you. _That_ is simply a result of–of whatever was happening here a few moments ago. Don’t get a big head about it.”

Arthur opened his mouth with a mad smile.

“No!” Merlin barked, “No big head cock jokes, thank you very much! I’ve had quite enough of you for one night.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin's new 'duties' are driving Arthur up the bloody wall. Turnabout's fair play.

Being the crown prince of Camelot was a lot to bear sometimes, but Arthur took what he could in stride.

He worked at showing great leadership to his knights and to the people of his city. He worked as hard, if not harder than anyone else under his care, proving that just because he was royalty didn’t exclude him from hard labour and extensive training.

He led the charge in any battle and was learning, ever so slowly, to be more patient with his opinions and his assumptions. He no longer mocked others for being poor, for example. Merlin used to make this _face_ , you see, and it drove Arthur to murder.

He was older and getting wiser by the day, so being injured and infirm for many weeks had thrown him adrift.

He didn’t enjoy the hours of lying down in his chambers, wishing someone, anyone would talk to him. He’d become used to the freedom of walking wherever and whenever he liked, at whatever hour he pleased. He even missed the stomping tours he’d have to make to find his idiotic servant where he shouldn’t be, because Merlin was nothing if not a pure annoyance.

Sir Leon was kind with his words whenever he spoke of the knights and their training sessions. Leon was a good man, the best lieutenant a captain could ask for, but he wasn’t able to hide everything. With Arthur hidden away in the castle, the knights were given free rein to relax, be merry, have a chance out at the tavern more than one night in a week.

Arthur hated to think that his absence was making them slow down or mistake a lack of vigilance for rest, but he also wondered if perhaps they didn’t miss his barking orders and early morning sword-training.

He hated being cooped up this way. He was Arthur Pendragon! He should be out there, in the sunshine enjoying his kingdom with his people! Well, some of his people. The arse-kissing court-mongers could do with being booted of a cliff.

He was unable to walk properly with his injured hip and ankle; and his arm, well, it wasn’t going to be healed any time soon, not by Gaius’ reckoning.

“Weeks, sire,” Gaius reminded him just that morning. “A couple more at most. Please do take care. If you do not heal correctly, you could lose the ability to fight at all. Never forget that.”

Arthur had snorted in return, but he knew deep down that Gaius was right. Sir Egan had injured his elbow many years back and due to inferior bandaging, his bones mended incorrectly. It had been a sad day, telling him he could not longer hold a sword and fight for the kingdom, not with the quivering of his arm and the struggle he had on his feet.

Arthur didn’t _want_ to re-break his bones, but he _could not_ keep lying here in his bed, gathering dust.

“I’m here, I’m here!” his chamber doors banged open suddenly, causing Arthur to jump out of his skin and shake him from his morose thoughts.

“Do you _ever_ think of knocking?” Arthur yelped as Merlin swung into the room bearing a tray of cheese, bread and wine.

“Hm,” Merlin ignored him, still smiling, and gently rested the tray on the table under the great big window. The sheer insolence radiating off him made Arthur want to _scream_ like he did when he was little and his nursemaid would not let him outside to play.

Arthur scowled. He’d been far too lenient with his manservant. What if the other servants thought to behave this way? Making snide comments to the King’s son, arguing back all the time, doing just as they pleased for the hell of it all? Merlin truly was an idiot.

He watched his manservant tidy up his rooms in a very poorly manner. Merlin wasn’t even that good at his daily duties.

Well.

He was good at _some_ things.

Arthur watched Merlin bend over the chest where Arthur kept his formal robes.

Merlin actually had a really nice arse on him. It was mildly infuriating because a man that skinny, that reedy, shouldn’t have an arse _like that._

His breeches were thin and worn, which was unfortunate. Arthur didn’t even know how or where Merlin would go for new clothing. He certainly didn’t work with the royal tailor. Merlin lived inside the castle like the rest of the servants, fed off the kindness of the royal family. Arthur made a mental note to ask about these things. It was probably a good idea for the future king to understand the minutiae of servant life in his own home.

“Are you not hungry?” Merlin was talking, suddenly in Arthur’s face. Arthur reeled back.

“What? Uh, yes. Starving.”

“Thought you might be,” Merlin smiled and waved Arthur towards the table laden with food. “Got you some of that sweet wine you like so much. Cook had it out for something, so I nicked it.”

Arthur carefully climbed out of bed, his sleep shift falling to cover his knees. He gingerly placed his weight on his injured leg.

“Oi, let me help,” Merlin sighed and came over to loop Arthur’s unbroken arm around his neck.

Arthur would never admit it, not under pain of beheading, but he did quite like the way Merlin had no qualms about physical closeness. He would hold Arthur if he needed support, would press his warm palm to Arthur’s back, arms, sometimes even his neck. The touches were a kindness to a man who had rarely been held in any gentle way. It must say something about Arthur, that he sought caresses from a servant in the bleakness of his real-life relationships at court and within the castle.

“You’re getting better, at least,” Merlin said, guiding Arthur to his seat. “Here, let me check the bruising.”

“Oi!” Arthur cawed when Merlin reached for the hem of his shift. “What the bloody hell is wrong with you?”

Merlin was bent over him. He rolled his eyes and Arthur noted the way his hair was curling over his eyebrows. It needed a trim. “Gaius said if the swelling keeps going down, that means your hip might actually heal properly, which is good, because not even he can get inside there to try mend it.”

“I’m not wearing anything under this, Merlin,” Arthur said drily, weighing each word with as much disdain as possible.

“Oh, I see,” Merlin stood up. “We’re pretending I don’t help get you off every other day because your wrists and elbow are still hurt, _sire?_ What’s a little nudity after that? I’ve seen you naked more times than I’d like, if we’re honest.”

Arthur didn’t want to pout but judging by the look on his manservant’s face, he was not succeeding in his endeavour. He aimed for lofty. “You speak out of turn too often.”

“I see, so your bruises are not purple and yellow anymore, are they?” Merlin said with arched brows. “You’re well-versed in medicinal care, are you?”

“You’re an _apprentice_ , Merlin,” Arthur spat out. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.” Though, if he was honest, Arthur couldn’t really inspect anything below the belt because he didn’t want to feel the awful twinge that radiated from his ribs every time he tried. Granted, his pain was leagues better now that it had been right after the fall, but he didn’t like it one bit. “You have been _lucky_ this entire time, Merlin. Having access to me, the prince, is a far sight better than mucking out the stables. And if you are insisting, because it is your duty to be concerned for my well-being, then so be it. You might as well get on with it. Hurry up, I’m hungry,” he griped and sat back on his chair, feet planted like he didn’t have a care for whatever Merlin wanted to do with whatever was beneath his sleepwear.

Merlin looked like he had a retort on the tip of his tongue, but at the last moment, stowed it away, probably for use at a point most inconvenient for Arthur.He crouched on one knee and got to the job of rolling Arthur’s shift up his legs.

Arthur was happy to note that his cock was behaving (for once) and didn’t seem to realize Merlin was the one poking around. Arthur’s cock had gained some sort of _fondness_ for Merlin.

“Hmm, the bruises are going down, but I can tell you’ve been overworking your hip, right here,” Merlin carefully touched a yellowing patch that sat exactly on top of Arthur’s protruding hipbone.Well, all right, then. If Merlin wasn’t going to comment on his cock, then Arthur could ease up on his vigilance.

He was loathe to admit that this new transaction they’d struck up, whereby Merlin aided him in his … needs, had had some bizarre effect on Arthur.

You see, Merlin had put his mouth on the royal sceptre, as it were, and that right there, had blown the top off Arthur’s carefully curated world.

He didn’t think people actually _did_ that. He’d heard of it, of course. But it didn’t sound like something one would do for another man out of … pleasure? It was something brayed about in taverns when one was drunk off their arse.

And ever since the first _incident_ Arthur had found it increasingly more difficult to _not_ think about it all the time. He felt like a whippet of a lad again, fresh out of fourteen, his breeches a constant constricting element in his life.

Even just a few days ago when the Earl of Amatea was visiting and Arthur had sat in the banquet hall with all the court and his father, he’d been so distracted by thoughts of Merlin sucking his cock, that he’d been erect for half the damn meeting. It was a preposterous situation for a prince to be in! He shouldn’t _have_ these base urges.

It’s not that he was unfamiliar with pleasuring himself, or having his interest piqued. Certainly, when he’d come of age, he’d found himself distracted by all manner of bodily curves and sensations. But nothing had prepared him for the sheer blinding _want_ he’d developed after Merlin had stepped in to ‘help’. It was probably some sort of sorcery.

Merlin was in front of him right now with those lovely lips of his, and Arthur could feel a faint stirring in his groin. Best put a stop to that. He pushed his shift back over himself and sat up straight.

Merlin didn’t seem to notice anything amiss. He got to his feet and went back to cutting up some cheese and bread for Arthur. The wine he poured and offered was indeed the sweet red that Arthur rarely got to drink, so prized was it by half the royal household.

“Mmm,” he purred after his first sip. “Sometimes you do get things right, Merlin.”

“Once in a while,” Merlin chuckled before popping a chunk of Arthur’s bread into his own mouth. Arthur chose to ignore that. He didn’t mind sharing his food with Merlin, so long as no one ever saw it happen. Merlin seemed to be in a good mood, which wasn’t uncommon, but always, somehow in tight contrast with Arthur’s own mood.

“Why are you always so contrary?” Arthur asked, piece of cheese held between his two working fingers on his right hand. He was getting flexibility back, thank goodness. “Honestly.”

Merlin looked up through his eyebrows and smirked. “I’m not contrary. I just happen to be vocal about the opposite of everything you say, do and believe.”

“What do you think _contrary_ means, exactly?” Arthur narrowed his eyes.

Merlin shrugged and plopped down in the other chair facing Arthur. “I don’t know. I wasn’t seen as contrary in Ealdor.”

“Hm,” Arthur bit into the soft cheese. He followed it up with a mouthful of fresh bread and a swig of wine. “Seems awfully convenient, being so argumentative with, say, me.”

Merlin sighed slowly, “It’s not _you._ It’s… the ways of living around this place. I can’t be quiet about everything. You’d get a fat head if you always got told what you wanted to hear. That’s how your fa–” Merlin cut himself off and looked away guiltily.

Arthur chewed his food slowly, eyes not straying from his servant. “My father,” he said, “go on.”

“No, sorry,” Merlin said carefully. “I didn’t mean–”

“You mean to say my father only ever has people agreeing with him, which is why he and I always butt heads?”

“Something like that?” Merlin winced and tried for a smile. It was more like a grimace.

Arthur stared at him. Merlin wasn’t wrong, exactly. Uther Pendragon wasn’t an easy man to deal with.

“I just think,” Merlin pushed on, “you deserve better. You can handle the truth, even if it’s coming from someone like me.”

“It’s _always_ coming from you,” Arthur said. “No one else gets away with this stuff, you know.”

“Well, point proven,” Merlin shrugged. “I, perhaps, have more faith in you.”

 _And I you_ , Arthur didn’t say. He didn’t want to examine exactly how much of Merlin’s input he valued. There was something in there about trust and loyalty that unsettled him. Arthur couldn’t trust anyone. No one was reliable. Not even his own father could suffer being honest with his son about the death of his mother.

He chewed silently.

“You need to clean my chambers,” he said.

“Right, yes,” Merlin looked about at the scruffy mess that arose from Arthur being locked indoors for hours on end.

“The ante-chambers too,” Arthur said. “I’ve got a handful of chores that I made up while left to my own devices. You will all rue the day you decided to coop me up like a chicken in a henhouse.”

Merlin sucked his lips inwards and looked at Arthur with those big, round eyes of his. “You could just tell everyone to sod off,” he said.

Arthur drank back a great big swallow of wine. “Not Gaius, though,” he hiccuped. “I can’t really deny him the right of the court physician.”

“Yeah,” Merlin nodded. “Gaius actually cares, you see. Something uncommon round these parts.”

“Hm,” Arthur narrowed his eyes at Merlin. “You’re not helping him today, so you might as well get started on your chores.”

“What?” Merlin frowned, “But I just sat down!”

“And you’ll have plenty of sitting to do later in your dotage.”

“You’re a terrible man and a horrid prince,” Merlin griped, after getting to his feet.

“Sorry what was that?” Arthur smiled and sat back.

“I _said,”_ Merlin’s face was all eyebrows and pointed looks. “You’re tired, get some rest.”

Arthur smiled blithely and sipped on his wine while watching Merlin get started on his myriad of chores.

* * *

Arthur was drunk.

It was that damn Merlin, leaving that damn wine in his rooms.

Arthur had paced between the ante-chambers and his expansive bedroom, laying out in his head the new training plans for his knights.

God forbid he lay idle and not work on _something._ He was able to limp slowly from one room to the next, the cool stone floors against his bare feet. He donned his red robe that dragged across the floor every time he swept into each room. Thirty steps from bed to farthest window and then thirty back. He blinked his eyes and the room bubbled a bit.

“Hm,” he huffed and made an about-face back to bed.

He fell forward across the warm furs and closed his eyes. His elbow was hurting again. God, he hoped it wasn’t going to heal all wrong. He needed his left arm. It bore his shield and he needed it strong and unwavering for battle. What kind of captain could lead without both arms?

That was unfair, of course, as many soldiers bore injuries from battle and continued on well in their duties.

Merlin had admonished him many times since the fall about Arthur being a self-absorbed prat about his injuries. “You’re in a far better position than most people in the kingdom, you know!” Merlin had griped when he changed the bed sheets earlier in the week.

Arthur exhaled into his fur throw, the material soft against his hot cheek.

He must have fallen asleep because the next thing he heard was someone puttering with the fire. Whoever it was, was humming some off-tune song.

“Mrrgh,” Arthur groaned and rolled his head to face the other way, still prone on his belly.

“You’re awake, then,” Merlin said.

“G’way,” Arthur grunted, not opening his eyes.

“It’s bedtime,” Merlin ignored him. “I came here to bring you your dinner but maybe you’re still full from eating the entire larder-full of cheese I brought up earlier.”

Arthur considered that. No, he wasn’t hungry. He was usually ravenous come dinner, but that was when he was allowed outside to train and ride his horse and expend his energy in more _respectable_ ways.

He was getting lazy.

His eyes opened and he stared at the curtained wall on the other side of his bed.

He pushed himself up with his unbroken elbow. It was awkward, but he could just manage it without too much pain from his ribs. He _was_ getting better. It had only been 21 days. Just a few more to go and he’d be free of this musty hell.

When he managed to sit up, he spotted Merlin crouched down like a gnome in front of the fire. He was carefully laying up the wood for the evening so it would burn low all night. He was actually quite good at keeping Arthur’s chambers warm. Surprises never ceased.

Merlin wasn’t wearing his usual suede brown jacket, opting to don a red tunic over his trousers. His neckerchief was missing. Odd.

Arthur could see the way Merlin’s shoulder blades stuck out. Merlin needed fattening up.

“Have you eaten?” he asked.

Merlin twisted on his feet, staring over his shoulder. “Yeah, I grabbed something in the kitchens.”

“What did you have?” Arthur asked. He rubbed his hand over his face, feeling the dregs of sleep sloughing off.

Merlin was back at the fire. He shrugged. “Some kind of stew. Rabbit, I think.”

Arthur watched Merlin. He always wanted to stare, but felt a deep discomfort every time he found himself doing so.

After the change in Merlin’s… duties, Arthur had found it more difficult to ignore.

Merlin had touched and/or sucked his cock exactly six times since the beginning of this disastrous accident. It was becoming too difficult for Arthur to ignore how one-sided it all felt.

Merlin had made it very clear that he didn’t mind. But Arthur wondered if it was because he was the prince and Merlin didn’t dare say no. Then again, on every single occasion, Merlin had been the one to suggest sticking his hand down Arthur’s breeches and not the other way round. In that he was certain, because every time Arthur even _thought_ of asking Merlin to ‘assist’ his mouth got all thick and his blood rushed in his head and he would feel faint. Was it normal to have one’s heart go thudding like a mad horse when one considered their manservant in this way?

The other quandary that had spoiled a lot of Arthur’s quiet time had been the fact that Merlin had not only seen Arthur naked a million times, but had also put his mouth all over the prince’s body and yet Arthur had _never_ seen Merlin naked at all.

They didn’t bathe in the river together when on a journey and Merlin obviously had no real reason to be shirtless within the castle walls.

Arthur had been devoid of any shame regarding having his manservant dress him so it wastad too late to think about the role reversal now.

Why did Arthur suddenly want to see Merlin naked? Was it because he’d just not had the privilege, or was it because of the newfound adoration for Merlin’s hand and mouth on his cock?

Arthur frowned, the light from the fire flickering up the walls of his room.

Merlin finished what he was doing and stood up, dusting his hands off.

“Right,” he said, finally turning to Arthur. “What’s left? If you don’t want to eat then–”

“Come here,” Arthur said firmly.

He must have sounded abrupt because Merlin’s brows rose. He walked over to Arthur. “Yes, _sire?”_ he said slowly.

“I would like–” Arthur swallowed and then followed that up with a scowl. “I _want,_ that is to say, I would like it if you could… stay. And perhaps, if you wouldn’t mind, though you can go if you need to, but if you can stay, and assist me–” Arthur’s voice was getting awfully high and Merlin’s smile was inversely getting wider by the second.

“Yes?” Merlin said again, grinning now.

“Just!” Arthur could feel how red his cheeks must look. He waved his bandaged left arm.

“Would sire like me to assist him with… his release?” Merlin said, voice dripping with humour.

Arthur’s face felt like a furnace. Why? No woman had made him feel this way about a silly hand job.

“What I would like,” Arthur said, slower this time, “is for you to… er–participate.”

“I do,” Merlin cocked his head to the side. “I’m actually quite good at it, I think.”

“Arrogant,” Arthur said curtly.

“Oh?” Merlin turned to sit beside Arthur on the bed. Servants did _not_ sit on the royal bedding. Except, apparently, Merlin. “You _don’t_ think I’m good with my hands?”

Arthur glanced down at Merlin’s pale, long fingers. He licked his lips. “You’re fine.”

“Would sire prefer I call on another maid to–”

“Oh no,” Arthur gasped. “Don’t you bloody dare. You know I don’t want anything to upset the working staff of the castle that way!”

“But it’s okay with me?” Merlin said.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” Arthur tried to cross his arms but failed. He awkwardly waved them about before letting both arms fall.

Merlin carefully placed his hand on Arthur’s thigh. The red robe was thin enough that Arthur could feel the warmth through that and his shift.

Arthur’s cock was paying great attention to the goings-on around it.

Merlin’s hand moved slowly over Arthur’s thigh andthen to the edge of the shift. It pushed the fabric back and slipped underneath.

Arthur gasped. Merlin’s fingers found him and wrapped themselves around his length. He leaned back on the bed, body giving the orders now.

Merlin gave him a soft squeeze and Arthur swallowed. Then Merlin’s hand retreated.

He got to his feet, turned and held out a hand to Arthur.

“Wha–” Arthur blinked.

“I hate to tell you this,” Merlin said resignedly, “but I would really like to try something.”

“What?” Arthur said, clearer this time. His cock was very confused. Was Merlin _not_ going to bring him off?

“C’mon,” Merlin tugged Arthur to stand. “Here.” He pushed the robe off Arthur’s shoulders and let it drop to the floor. He bent to pick it up, all while Arthur stood there like a prat, tenting his sleep wear.

“Must take care of your things, sire,” Merlin hummed. He laid the robe over a chair then came back to look Arthur over.

Why was this making Arthur’s blood rush so loudly in his ears? Why did he feel so off-kilter?

“Now this,” Merlin pulled at Arthur’s shift and Arthur immediately obliged by lifting his arms, much like he did when Merlin got him dressed. The motions were the same but the setting was different.

Arthur stood there arse-naked while Merlin looked him over. He denied himself the urge to cover his bits.

“You know,” Merlin smiled slowly, “sometimes I have no idea what the ladies at court see in you, but now, hm, maybe I understand a little. You’re quite beautiful.”

Arthur scowled, “Your insolence will one day get you stabbed, Merlin.”

“That was a _compliment_ , you prat,” Merlin said.

“Coming from you, I highly doubt it,” Arthur retorted.

“You really do need it, don’t you?” Merlin said archly.

“I should have you drawn and quartered, like the Roman lords of old,” Arthur bit back. “You do know it is a privilege to serve under me, Mer–”

Merlin cupped him with one hand and Arthur’s voice squeaked out of existence. “ _Under_ you, hm?” Merlin arched a brow and Arthur stuttered. Merlin’s hand squeezed and Arthur fell back to sit on the high bed. Merlin followed and took Arthur’s cock in hand, gently tugging at it.

Then Merlin got down on his knees on the stone floor and Arthur gulped back a splutter creaking up his throat. The visual of Merlin, fully clothed, on his knees, in front of Arthur was a _sight_ to _behold_. Merlin stroked Arthur’s cock a few times, watching his own fingers work.

“Would you like me to do this, or the other thing?” Merlin asked.

Arthur opened his mouth to speak, then shivered as Merlin gently rubbed the pad of his thumb over his cock head. “I–I–” he spluttered. He tried to compose himself, angered at the sheer idiocy he was displaying. Merlin had no control over _him!_ This was going to the servant’s head.

“Suck me off,” Arthur said, clearing his throat and staring Merlin down. “And hurry up about it.”

Merlin nodded and obliged without quarrel. Arthur thought he was going to _melt_. Merlin’s mouth was warm and _wet_ and wrapped around him so easily. He sucked at Arthur’s cock, hand gently tugging at the base.

“Oh,” Arthur’s eyes fluttered as he watched Merlin’s lips slide down his length. He pressed his hand to Merlin’s head and felt the thick dark curls there. Merlin’s eyes darted up and Arthur’s heart skipped a beat.

“Merlin,” Arthur breathed, watching that filthy mouth envelop him. “ _Mer_ lin!” he yelped when Merlin’s tongue laved at the tip. _That_ one sent zinging sparks up Arthur’s legs.

Merlin’s mouth worked him slowly, wetly, bringing Arthur higher and higher, bit by bit.

Arthur could see his own cock glistening due to Merlin’s mouth and his own precome. He panted, bothhands now tugging at Merlin’s hair. He was in heaven.

Arthur couldn’t stand it.

He flopped backwards onto the bed, leaving Merlin’s head between his thighs to suck and pleasure him for as long as he could. Merlin was getting better and better at it.

At first it had been quick and rushed and efficient, but now Arthur wondered at the care Merlin was taking to suck him off almost painfully slow.

“Nnhg!” Arthur’s legs came up, then went back down. How this must look: he, the royal prince bare and on his back with Merlin’s head suckling between his legs in the firelight. It was all just so much to think about. If anyone ever found them like this…

 _This_ was what made Arthur irate during meetings with his father and the court. Even injured, he had to appear stately and calm and intelligent. He couldn’t be caught daydreaming of having his cock sucked all over the castle. Even the thought of Merlin touching him anywhere other than in his own chambers would set Arthur off.The number of times he’d imagined Merlin under the table cloth at dinner–burrowing in to loosen Arthur’s trousers so as to wrap those plush lips around–those times had been too many!

“Merlin,” Arthur gasped, eyes half-lidded as he stared at the bed canopy. “Slow down…”

And lo and behold, Merlin did as he was told. Arthur was able to catch his breath. Merlin stood up and wiped at his mouth, his hair a complete mess. Arthur stared at him. Merlin came closer and leaned over Arthur, pressing his hands to the bed. He cast such a shadow over Arthur as to have Arthur shivering under thoughts of Merlin perhaps holding him down, not letting him go.

Arthur moved quickly. He half sat up and then Merlin’s eyes widened. He gasped.

“Arthur?” he asked, feeling the prince’s clumsily bandaged right hand pressing at his groin. “What–”

“I want to,” Arthur said, heart thumping, eyes not looking away. He licked his lips. “Let’s both.”

Merlin’s eyes followed the trail of Arthur’s tongue, then he nodded. “All right.”

The two of them clambered back across the bed, Merlin following Arthur’s lead. Arthur was rubbing at Merlin, feeling the hard length of him in his pants. “Let me see it,” he gasped out. He turned onto his side so Merlin could lie down beside him.

Merlin struggled to get his ties undone. He kicked at his boots, which were in the way, then his stockings. Arthur graciously assisted him by undoing the knot in Merlin’s trouser-ties. The fabric loosened and Arthur was able to slip his hand inside. Only his two middle fingers were bandaged now, so his palm as free to press closer.

“Mm,” Merlin sort of grunted, surprised, perhaps.

Arthur held Merlin in his hand and wondered at the feel of another man in his palm. Merlin was heavy and hot in his grasp. He retracted his hand and batted at the flaps of fabric.

Merlin got the message and shuffled his trousers down over his hips until he could kick them aside.

Arthur gazed upon him with interested eyes. Merlin was built different. He was pinker, hard and quite lovely.Arthur gently pulled on Merlin’s cock. His wrist didn't hurt, so that was good.

Merlin jerked, “Are you sure,” he began.

“Shut up,” Arthur hissed, mesmerized by what his hand was doing. Merlin would shiver and gasp small sounds every so often and there was something in that that made Arthur’s brain _buzz_.

Then Merlin’s hand found Arthur and before long the two of them were jerking each other, pulling soft grunts and sounds out of their mouths.

“I want to try sucking you off,” Arthur said, looking at Merlin’s face.

“You _what?_ ” Merlin cried out.

“Please?” Arthur said, squeezing Merlin.

“But you can’t,” Merlin said, almost furiously. “You’re the prince of fucking Camelot. You can’t be sucking cocks like, like, like I _don't know!_ ”

“Like you?” Arthur smiled.

“I only suck yours,” Merlin griped, annoyance flashing in his eyes.

Why that made Arthur’s chest inflate was beyond inspecting. “Well, since I am the prince, you should definitely let me suck you off.”

“Are you demanding it?” Merlin narrowed his eyes at Arthur. He squeezed Arthur’s cock, hard, and Arthur almost swallowed his own tongue.

“Geh– Merlin, I’m being–serious!”

“Sorry, what was that?” Merlin said and stroked faster.

“Just, _let me!_ ” Arthur growled. He paused in his anger. “If you don’t want to because… of whatever reasons, that’s fine as well. I just… I wanted to try it. That’s all.”

Merlin’s hand went still; Arthur’s did not. He continued to squeeze and tug on Merlin’s cock, undeterred. He was quite happy to keep doing this for as long as his arm could hold out. He loved pulling sounds from Merlin, making Merlin squirm and pant and flop about.

“Are we really doing all of this?” Merlin said with glazed eyes.

“Yes,” Arthur lurched towards him and, without thinking, kissed him.

“Mmf!” Merlin gasped.

Arthur’s tongue pushed into Merlin’s mouth and was glad to find Merlin reciprocating eagerly. They kissed messily, each trying to overpower the other with teeth and tongues and lips. Arthur’s hand continued to pull at Merlin, freeing gasps and wet, hot noises from him.

“Arthur,” Merlin said, trying to be stern. “I’m a servant.”

“I want to suck your cock,” Arthur licked into Merlin’s mouth, dazed and above all earthly concern.

“All right,” Merlin kissed him wetly, open-mouthed. “Fine.”

* * *

“Oh,” Merlin purred.

Arthur had been at it for a while. He quite enjoyed just holding Merlin’s cock between his lips. After the initial exploration phase, he’d tried sucking just the tip, then sucking the whole thing into his mouth. That had ended in a short coughing fit which Arthur refused to back down from.

He was lying on his belly, Merlin’s legs bracketing his face, while Merlin sat with his back to the ornately carved headboard.

What this must look like: the prince now with _his_ head suckling between his manservant’s legs. It was heady for Arthur to see himself this way. It was thrilling.

Arthur bobbed his head, enjoying the slide of Merlin’s cock along his tongue. He was learning a lot already. Firstly: he definitely liked shoving a cock in his mouth. Secondly: Merlin liked to press his thumbs to Arthur’s face, his cheeks, his forehead. He uttered all sorts of small endearments, encouraging Arthur on.

“I didn’t know you’d ever be interested this,” Merlin exhaled after one particularly long suck.

Arthur blinked up at him.

Merlin smiled. “You’re a quick learner, sire.”

“Hmm,” Arthur rumbled around Merlin. _That_ seemed to do something. Merlin shuddered and winced as pleasure thrummed through him.

He whined, “I’m so close, Arthur, you might want to pull back.”

Arthur suckled and licked at Merlin’s cock. He felt filthy and wanton and elated all at once. They should have been engaging in these activities for ages! Years! Time wasted!

When Arthur did pull away, Merlin’s head fell back against the headboard and he breathed out shakily.

He was finally fully naked and Arthur was fascinated by the differences between them. He could stare as much as he liked with Merlin splayed out like this.

Arthur cleared his throat and wiped at his mouth. His own cock was throbbing underneath him but he’d been so intent on Merlin’s pleasure he hadn’t minded one bit.

Now, however, they both needed an end. Arthur carefully got up onto his knees.

“Huh?” Merlin opened one eye when Arthur shoved at his knees and clambered over them.

“Move these, there,” Arthur crowded in close, seating himself on Merlin’s lax thighs. Their cocks were full and dark and wet, resting together.

Arthur took Merlin in hand. He inhaled deeply and stared down at his manservant. He cocked an eyebrow. “Well, I’m not doing this _by myself._ ”

Merlin laughed and wrapped his hand around Arthur’s cock like it was nothing.

They mirrored each other, hands working quickly upon the other’s skin.

“Oh, oh, yes,” Arthur grunted, biting his lower lip. They tugged at one another, rubbing, slicking, sliding, the wet noises making it all the more lascivious.

Arthur pressed in closer, his nose to Merlin’s cheek. He breathed him in, panted against Merlin’s skin.

Merlin’s free hand found Arthur’s arse and tugged, fingers digging in. “ _Ah_ , Arthur,” Merlin exhaled sharply. “Look at you.”

“Yes, yes,” Arthur panted, feeling his own cock throb and leak as it all crested around them. He stared down between them, at the way their hands flew over their cocks, wet and shiny and throbbing with passion.

He came first, spattering his seed all up Merlin’s chest. _That_ made Arthur’s orgasm hit harder.

Merlin followed right after, watching Arthur’s hand slip and slide over him all messy and wet.

Arthur had never seen anything so filthy in his entire life. He’d never even thought it was possible, that he could sit atop someone and just let himself go upon their skin. _Merlin’s_ skin.

Arthur slumped sideways, crashing into the mattress like a bag of flour.

Merlin panted beside him. “Well, that went well,” he said.

Arthur groaned and flopped onto his back, feeling sweaty and shivery all over. “You’ve ruined me for all future wives.”

“Good,” Merlin laughed. “Though that wasn’t my intention.”

Arthur opened his eyes and found Merlin watching him. “What _was_ your intention?” he asked.

Merlin shrugged, “I wanted to help you.”

Arthur dragged Merlin down to the bed as forcefully as he could until they were at the same eye level.

“You have very strange ways of ‘helping,' Merlin," he said, voice deep.

“Unorthodox, perhaps,” Merlin smiled.

“But not unappreciated,” Arthur murmured. He watched Merlin wriggle into the covers. They were both a mess. “You’re not doing this for others in the royal household, are you?”

Merlin frowned, “God, no. _Blech_ , no thank you.”

Arthur didn’t know why he was smiling.“Good. Good to hear. You’re my manservant, after all.”

“I am indeed, sire,” Merlin snuggled in closer. “I am indeed. Though perhaps, after seeing how well you just did with me, you might be able to pleasure yourself again, hm? It would free up some time for me.”

"Now, now," Arthur tutted, "Let's not go rushing into things."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for reading and kudosing, and commenting. :) Much love.


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